


The Ugly Duckling

by jujubiest



Category: Glee
Genre: Gay Bashing, Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Warblers Blaine, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1962942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubiest/pseuds/jujubiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson is nobody's teenage dream. He's just a goofy, insecure kid trying to make it through high school like everybody else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Labels

**Author's Note:**

> I originally only had this posted on FFN, and finally decided to port it over. Please note that I created the character of Sebastian Grey--who is a total sweetheart--when the show was still in mid-season two, LONG before the introduction of the gorgeous vaguely evil snarkmaster Sebastian Smythe. So just...yeah. That.

Whoever said teenagers had it easy must never have attended public high school. At least, that's what Blaine Anderson thought as he desperately tried to remember the locker combination he'd forgotten for the third time that week.  _7…23…18? No? C'mon!_ He sighed and rested his head against the cool metal in frustration. He was going to be late for English. Again. The teacher had been lenient enough the first few times, it being the first week of school and all, but his patience was bound to run out sometime, and Blaine was in no hurry to hasten it along. He smacked the locker in frustration.

"Problem?" said a sardonic voice behind him. He turned to see a pair of wide brown eyes looking down at him from an open, friendly face. He shot the newcomer a hesitant smile in return.

"Uh, yeah. My locker won't open. I keep forgetting the combination. Um…I'm sorry. I know you're in one of my classes but I can't remember your name for the life of me." The other boy just grinned wider.

"I'm Sebastian Grey. And let me guess: you're fresh off the middle school conveyer belt?" Blaine's shoulders drooped a little. Did he look that clueless? But Sebastian's expression was still friendly and sympathetic, so his smile stayed in place, even if it did turn a bit ironic at the corners.

"Yeah…is it that obvious?" Sebastian laughed.

"Yes, it's pretty obvious. Let me give you a few pointers, new kid. Look like you know what you're doing even when you don't. Walk like you have a purpose, a set destination. Write your locker combination on the inside of your hand until you remember it. And in the meantime…" he banged his fist firmly on the middle of the locker door, which swung open easily. Blaine stared at him with such a comical mix of gratitude and hero-worship that the older boy couldn't help but chuckle again.

"…come to me if you need anymore help. Don't worry…soon you'll fit right in."

* * *

After that day, Blaine couldn't believe he had ever doubted the merits of high school. Sebastian, it turned out, was a senior, and he took Blaine under his wing and showed him the ropes: what days to bring lunch from home, how to sweet talk the lunch ladies out of an extra apple or pear, which professors were friendly and which were immune to all student advances of familiarity. For his part, Blaine just drank it all in and gazed at Sebastian with stars in his eyes. With the older boy's help, he made friends in no time…mostly students from art and show choir, a few drama and band kids thrown in here and there. It never occurred to Blaine that these weren't the "coolest" kids to hang out with. They were all older than him, all confident and tall and ready with smiles for him. Sure, they treated him like a kid brother a lot of the time, but having a multitude of older siblings beat the hell out of just being the guy with no friends.

Not that Blaine hadn't had any friends in middle school. He'd had Sheena, Kim, Stephanie, Morgan, Cale, and Bridget. But Cale had moved away in the middle of the school year in eighth grade, and Blaine had lost touch with him. Sheena, Kim, and Stephanie had gone to one of the other three high schools in Westerville, Morgan had gone to the private high school, Dalton Academy, and Bridget had gone to the third public school. Which left Blaine pretty much alone, and hopelessly lost. Except for Sebastian.

"So, Blaine…what do you want to be in high school?" the older boy said one day at the lunch table. Blaine choked on his milk a little, and gave Sebastian a weird look.

"Um, isn't it supposed to go, 'what do you want to be  _after_ high school?'" Sebastian chuckled.

"Sure, that's the usual question. But why should you have to wait until you graduate to be something? You're a person now…what kind do you want to be?"

"Isn't high school where you experiment and figure that out?"

"Oh sure. But high school…it's kind of like prison. The groups are a little less scary, but only just. And if you don't find one, you end up alone and you're an easy target, right?" Blaine just stared. What Sebastian said made sense…but he found he was a little disappointed to hear it.

"Isn't it best just to be yourself and let people like you for who you are?" Sebastian gave him a look, but at the sincere expression on Blaine's face, his own features softened. He reached across the table and put his hand on one of Blaine's.

"Of course it is. I wasn't suggesting you be someone you're not at all. What I meant was…what do you want to  _do?_ Other than just go to class and hang out with me and my weird friends," he gave the younger boy a wry smile.

"I don't think your friends are so weird," Blaine objected. Sebastian laughed.

"Oh sure,  _you_ don't think so. You're walking in on the finished product, though. The nice façade, if you will." Blaine's face said clearly that he didn't understand. Sebastian sighed.

"Look, Blaine. You've been hanging out with us for a few weeks now, and I'm glad you like us. It's just…the band kids, the drama kids, the art students…we're nowhere near the top of the totem pole. We're more like the dirt it gets stuck in, honestly. It's not so bad for the seniors, because most of our fellow classmates have grown up a bit and, like us, are too busy freaking out over graduation and getting into college to do much damage. And no underclassman is stupid enough to pick on a senior. But still…it wasn't always this easy for us. Some of us got picked on a lot at the beginning, and some of us still do, in mild ways. I just…" and here, Sebastian's perfectly sure expression got a little hesitant, nervous, and a little bit sad. "I just want you to know what you're getting into, hanging out with us. If you're with us, you're not going to be the big man on campus. You won't ever be class president or prom king. It's only fair to let you know that."

Blaine stared at Sebastian for a full minute. He had never seen the older boy look so awkward, and it wrenched at something inside him uncomfortably. He thought about how Sebastian had shown him how to get to classes without getting stepped on, helped him with the French homework that was admittedly a bit advanced for him, dragged him along to get coffee with his friends like he wasn't just a wet-behind-the-ears freshman. He grasped the hand Sebastian still had resting over his own and squeezed, prompting the other boy to look up.

"I'll only say this once, okay? You—you're the best friend I've ever had. I didn't know  _anyone_ when I got here. If it weren't for you I probably would've gotten lost somewhere between the gym and the auditorium, and I never would've found my way out again. Do you really think I care what other people think? You're the coolest person I know, and if the rest of the kids here are too stupid to realize that you'd make the world's best prom king, they must not be very smart. I don't care about cliques and labels, Sebastian."

Sebastian looked at Blaine's hand grasping his, then back up at him, something unidentifiable on his face. Then he spoke.

"Here's one you might care a little bit about. Blaine…I'm…I'm gay."


	2. Not Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine will have some thoughts about being gay in this chapter that seem very OOC for him. Let me just say, these thoughts in no way correspond to my own ideas about being gay, and I don't for a moment think these things are an accurate reflection of what being gay is like or what it should be like. This is just what I see running through the mind of a sheltered and confused young man as he comes to terms with his sexuality. Obviously, his outlook will change eventually, but this is not Blaine at his coolest or most confident, this is all the pain and uncertainty he had to fight through to get there.

Blaine just stared at Sebastian for a second. The older boy dropped his gaze, not wanting to see the rejection and disgust that would dawn there any second. But Blaine's hand didn't move from where it still grasped his, and when the boy spoke up, Sebastian could've sworn he heard a hint of _amusement_ in his voice.

"Um…Seb, I kind of…knew that already."

Sebastian jerked his head up to look at Blaine, astonished. Blaine would have laughed if the moment weren't so serious.

"Really? You thought it was a big secret? I mean, all your other friends know, right?" Sebastian acknowledged this with a grimace and a nod. "So, what? You think  _none_ of them have ever let anything slip when I was around, or said anything about you and me?"

"About…about you and me?" Sebastian sat back in his chair, withdrawing his hand and looking at Blaine with a somewhat shell-shocked expression. He was torn between relief at Blaine's mild reaction and the strong desire to systematically strangle all his friends, just to make sure he got the culprit. "Who said something about…um, you and me?"

"Well, Amanda, for one thing. The first day you introduced us, at that little gathering at the coffee shop? You went to get our coffees and she asked if I were your new boyfriend. So I've kind of known for awhile now, and it hasn't stopped me from hanging out with you."

"You're not worried people will think you're gay by association?" Blaine colored slightly at this, and didn't quite meet Sebastian's eyes when he responded. This time there was something a little defensive in his tone, and the relieved sigh waiting to burst from Sebastian's mouth caught in the back of his throat, despite the words.

"I don't care what people think, Seb. I told you that."

* * *

The really sad part was, Blaine actually  _didn't_ care what people thought about his friend. He was much, much more afraid of what they would think of _him…_ or say about him, or do to him, if they had any idea.

He could just imagine what his parents' reaction would be. He groaned and rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling, brow furrowed in frustration. His unruly dark hair—he really needed a haircut—splayed around his head like some kind of bizarre halo. He'd lost track of how long he'd been in his room, just…thinking.

His thoughts wouldn't divert themselves from Sebastian Grey.

_What's up with me? I mean…Sebastian's my friend. He's been my friend since day one. So, why all of a sudden can I not think of anything to say when I'm around him? Why can't I look at him anymore?_

He groaned, and rolled over onto his side, resting his curly head on one arm. It had been that talk in the lunchroom, almost a week ago. Blaine had already known Sebastian was gay. But talking about it had changed something, brought it out into the open and made it real, and now Blaine felt like a liar and a hypocrite every time he saw his friend. Not to mention that, inexplicably, every time he and the older boy were in the same room, he was abruptly reduced to an inarticulate mess…which, considering his usual awkward state, was really saying something. He sighed, and closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of Sebastian's hurt expression when he'd blown off going to get coffee for the third time in a week yesterday. He knew he was giving the older boy the wrong idea—that he really  _did_ care and was trying to distance himself subtly—but his head just wasn't on straight and he needed time to think before he was thrown into a social situation with Seb's rambunctious friends. If Amanda or Nathan saw the way he was acting, they'd know something was up immediately.

Blaine had never had trouble fitting in with other boys. Sure, a lot of his friends were girls, but he enjoyed watching football, and he didn't mind playing video games—even the really gory ones—and he'd never once felt compelled to squeal at the sight of the new cover of  _Vogue_. No, he was pretty much your typical red-blooded American boy, if a little small for his age, in all ways but one.

He'd never kissed a girl. He'd never checked a girl out. He'd never  _wanted_ to do either one. Girls were great as friends, but he was never interested in the things about them that other guys seemed to obsess about. But he  _had_ sat up straighter and gotten a little wide-eyed the first time he'd seen Orlando Bloom in  _Pirates of the Caribbean._  He had been transfixed by the actor's wide brown eyes, his husky voice speaking in a British accent, the way he moved as he sparred with Captain Jack Sparrow…Blaine was only nine or ten at the time, but he remembered begging his dad to buy him the Will Turner poster from the movie, and putting it up on the inside of his bedroom door.

It hadn't been until just a year ago that Blaine had started to wonder  _why_ he'd never gotten interested in any of his girl friends. The other two had; Cale and Stephanie had been friends, then had started hanging out all the time by themselves, and then they'd walked around holding hands for a few weeks before yelling at each other and refusing to speak to each other for awhile, making everyone around them uncomfortable till they got over it. The same with Morgan and Kim. Blaine had asked Morgan about it, and gotten a funny look before the boy answered thoughtfully.

"I dunno dude, it's weird. Like, one day she was just my friend, like always. Then all of a sudden I look at her in math class and I notice how cute it is when she pushes her hair behind her ear over and over when she's nervous about a test. And then I started to get all—I dunno, nauseous or something, it's weird, every time I was around her, and I could never think of anything to say. I worried what she was thinking about me, or if she thought about me at all."

Blaine sat back and waited, even started trying to notice little things about his girl friends. He had grown to be very perceptive, but the way Sheena wrinkled her nose when she laughed and the way Bridget's eyes got really big and shiny when she lied to a teacher didn't make Blaine feel nauseous, or self-conscious. It was just interesting, and funny.

Finally, beginning to worry there was something really wrong, he'd done what any self-respecting child of the New Millennium would do: he'd Googled it. And a thousand tiny little things had clicked into place.

He had no interest in girls. He'd spent a couple years of his life entirely obsessed with Orlando Bloom's doe eyes. He felt himself blushing a little whenever this one boy who sat next to him in his music class smiled at him, and got a fluttery feeling in his stomach if their elbows ever brushed as they were working. Oh.  _Oh._

So Blaine had finally figured out, at the age of thirteen, that he was gay. And he'd freaked out, because it had just never occurred to him to think about it before. He was relatively sheltered, and he didn't consider himself especially effeminate, so he'd never thought about being gay. He knew some people were. Who hadn't heard of Rosie O'Donnell or Clay Aiken? But Blaine had never been lonely, he'd never been  _looking_ for someone to catch his interest, and so the issue of who he was attracted to hadn't really come up before. And now, he was pretty sure he was gay, and he was freaking out. Because he  _knew_ this was going to be a problem. Self-aware he might not be, but Blaine wasn't stupid. He hadn't been living under a rock. Gay kids caught crap at school. Gay kids got beat up, and kicked out of their houses, and disowned by their fathers. Blaine's parents weren't particularly religious, but he knew his grandparents went to church and believed being gay was a sin. He'd sat alone in his room, after erasing the internet history on the family computer, and he'd cried till his head and eyes ached and he couldn't breathe through his nose anymore. He didn't want to be gay.

* * *

"So, when you said you didn't care what people thought, you neglected to tell me what  _you_ actually think of me now." Blaine cringed mentally at the bitter tone in Sebastian's voice as he closed his locker door to see the boy on the other side, leaning against the wall of lockers with his arms crossed, sardonic facial expression valiantly hiding his hurt the way his voice failed to do. Blaine hoisted his backpack more firmly onto his shoulder and turned away, muttering something about being late for class, but Sebastian reached out and caught his arm to stop him.

"Seriously? You're just going to, what, avoid me till I graduate?" Reluctantly, Blaine turned to face the older boy, not quite able to meet his eyes as usual. He hated that this was becoming their "as usual."

"I'm not avoiding you, okay? I've just been busy with…stuff."

"Stuff? Please elaborate."

"Personal stuff, okay? None of your business."

"None of my business? Since when? You've talked to me non-stop since we became friends, and then I tell you I'm gay and suddenly you have nothing to say to me, you don't ever have time to hang out with me, and when something's obviously wrong it's  _none of my business?"_

Sebastian wasn't yelling at him. But Blaine didn't have to meet the other boy's eyes to know his was furious…and hurt. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed Sebastian by the arm and pulled him across the hall and into the boy's bathroom. Sebastian was so surprised and confused that he just let himself be pulled along, and just stood and stared as Blaine checked under the stalls for feet before turning to his friend and finally,  _finally_ looking him in the eyes.

"Seb, I'm…I'm sorry. What we talked about the other day, it just freaked me out a little. Not the gay part—like I said. I already knew. It just…" he dropped his gaze to his shoes and mumbled something unintelligible.

"Didn't catch that," said Sebastian, the hurt still evident in his clipped tones. Blaine's brow furrowed, and he took a deep breath.

"I said…" he looked up. "I said it just hit a little close to home."

Sebastian looked at Blaine for a minute, hurt expression slowly relaxing into understanding, and sympathy. He watched Blaine drop his gaze again, hunching his shoulders forward and shoving his hands into his pockets. The pose was so defensive, so isolated. The kid was scared, obviously. He looked like he was expecting a horde of fundamentalist preachers to pop out of the walls and start loudly condemning him to hellfire and brimstone. Sebastian recognized something else, too…something he was all too familiar with. Blaine wasn't just scared, he was alone. He thought he was all alone.

"Hey." Blaine looked up, and then stiffened as Sebastian wrapped him up in a hug. He relaxed, just a little, when he heard the older boy speak above his head.

"You're not alone, Blaine. And you don't have to tell anyone until you're sure and ready. Just talk to me, okay? I'm your friend, I've only been around for a few weeks, I know, but I'm still a friend. Tell me if I can help."

Blaine just hugged him back. He hadn't cried about it since that first time, over a year ago, alone in his room. He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, but they didn't fall. He was gay, and he didn't want to be, and he was hiding it from everyone, and he was terrified of what would happen if they found out. But he wasn't alone.


	3. Conversations

"When did you first know you were gay?" Sebastian looked up from the book he was reading and scrutinized the top of Blaine's head…which was all he could see, because the boy was looking resolutely at the floor. Sebastian sat the book aside and lounged back in his desk chair, trying to think of how to answer.

Their Friday nights had begun to follow something of a routine. Blaine would hitch a ride home with Sebastian and they would spend a few hours in his room, doing homework or studying or just lounging around with books until one of them started a conversation. They talked about everything: their parents, their friends, drama at school, movies they'd liked and hated, weird habits they had. Sebastian learned that Blaine liked to sing in the shower, and Blaine learned that Sebastian couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but liked to turn the radio up to full blast in the morning while he got ready. They learned that they both hated yogurt but loved sour cream. Blaine put it on potatoes, which Sebastian found weird.

The one thing they never really talked about was being gay. Sebastian's parents didn't seem to mind that their gay son had a boy in his room with the door shut all the time, and Blaine didn't ask about it. The older boy sensed that Blaine wasn't ready to talk about it yet, so he didn't bring it up; he just waited. And here it was. He took a deep breath.

"That's a loaded question. As a concept, as a label? I didn't really know much about gay relationships until I was eleven or twelve. But the difference was there before that. I mean…" he was having trouble explaining it, even to himself. He leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows up on his knees. Blaine looked up at him hesitantly, his hazel eyes troubled. Sebastian gave him a rueful smile. "The world seems made for straight people sometimes, right? Parents teach their kids about boys and girls and the birds and the bees with the assumption that all children are straight. My parents were no different. They told me about how little girls were different, and I watched my friends pick on girls and say they have cooties, and I even remember this one kid, Greg, used to run up and kiss Amanda on the cheek and then run away." He chuckled.

"But I never wanted to kiss Amanda. Or any of my other girl friends. The first person I ever remember wanting to kiss was Nathan." He risked a look at Blaine, and saw his eyes were wide.

"Nathan-Nathan? Our Nathan?" Sebastian laughed at his expression.

"The very same. He was born that good-looking. He was in my class in first grade. He sat beside me. And I remember blushing whenever he would smile at me, or talk to me. I remember always wanting to stand beside him when we played Red Rover, and getting really excited when he seemed to want to be my friend. I had the biggest crush on him, and I didn't even know it, and there was nobody around to explain to me what I was feeling." He paused, looking down at his hands and rubbing them together, thinking about how to continue.

"Did…" Blaine hesitated, then plunged forward. "Does he know?" The corner of Sebastian's mouth turned up in a sardonic smile.

"Oh, he knows. He knew all along, I think. Nathan was lucky enough to have someone to explain these things to him—not that he needed it, really. But his mom's brother is gay, and his mom is really cool. When he got the talk, he got all the information: sometimes boys like boys, and girls like girls. Lucky bastard." His tone was amused, but a little bitter as well. "He invited me for a sleepover in third grade and introduced me to his mom as 'the one I told you about.' When I asked him what he meant, he got all flustered and embarrassed, but finally told me that he'd told his mom he thought I had a crush on him."

Blaine's eyes widened. "What did you say to  _that?_ " Sebastian laughed.

"I told him boys didn't have crushes on boys, and he argued with me. Finally dragged me to his mom and pointed at me, and said 'tell him, Momma. Tell him boys can too have crushes on other boys.' She sat me down and talked to me. She didn't use any labels. She just explained it. And she told me it was okay. And Nate was always nice about it, he never brought up the crush again. I got over it eventually. There's a reason he's one of my best friends."

Blaine just sat there, letting it sink in. He found himself desperately wishing he'd had someone like Nathan's mom in his life, to explain his feelings to him, to tell him it was okay. He looked up at Sebastian from under his hair, and gave him a sad smile.

"I…I had to Google it."

Sebastian didn't laugh. He knew it wasn't funny.

* * *

"Have you ever dated anyone before? Like, really gone out in public on a date? A boy, I mean."

They were in Sebastian's room as usual, Blaine sprawled on the bed with his math homework spread out around him, Sebastian sitting cross-legged on the floor reading a play for English class. Sebastian bookmarked the page and walked on his knees to the edge of the bed, crossing his arms on the edge of the footboard and propping his chin up on them.

"I don't really date a lot, but I've gone on a couple. Mostly with guys from other schools that Amanda sets me up with. I don't know how, but she's like the gay matchmaker of the Ohio school system." Sebastian smiled when his joke made Blaine laugh.

"So, what was it like? Your first date."

"It was…normal. He was this quiet guy from some other school, I don't remember where. He was cute. We met up for dinner, and went to a movie, and at the end of the night he squeezed my hand and said he'd had a good time. But we didn't exchange numbers or anything."

"Why not? If you had a good time?" Sebastian sighed.

"We did have a good time. But there was no spark and we both knew it."

"So, did you ever feel a spark with anyone else?" Sebastian nodded. Blaine folded himself up until he was balanced on his knees and fists, leaning forward eagerly, looking for juicy gossip. The sight was adorable.

"Ooo…who was it?"

But that was one Sebastian refused to answer.

* * *

"How was school today?"

Blaine looked up from his contemplation of the weird tofu thing his mother had made—she was forever trying to turn the family into granolas—to answer his father.

"Good I guess. It was school." He poked at the tofu with his fork. It jiggled. He made a face. "Mom, are you sure this is cooked enough?"

"The tofu is fine, Blaine. Eat it and stop complaining. Now, what are you doing this weekend? We have a dinner party on Friday and a conference for your father's firm the rest of the weekend, and I don't want you moping around the house all by yourself."

"I won't. I'm going to Sebastian's on Friday like normal, and then Saturday I think Amanda wants us to go to some kind of art exhibit." His mother smiled, but his father frowned.

"Sebastian. Sebastian Grey? Is that Tina and Martin Grey's kid?" Blaine shrugged.

"I guess so. I've met his parents, but I don't call them by their first names. Why?"

"Isn't he a senior?" Blaine raised an eyebrow and nodded at his dad, not sure where this was going.

"You spend an awful lot of time hanging out with him. Don't you have some friends your age you could spend some time with?" Blaine scowled.

"Sebastian's not that much older than me. We have stuff in common. So what if he's a senior?"

"So," his mother interjects before his dad can say anything, "Older kids can sometimes get into situations we don't want you dealing with yet, honey. Do you go to parties with these kids?" Blaine fought the urge to roll his eyes at his mother. That certainly wouldn't help.

"Look, Seb and Amanda and Nate…they're really cool. And they're good guys…it's not like I'm hanging out with football players and cheerleaders or anything. We don't go to keggers, we go to art galleries. We get coffee. And even if we  _did_ go to parties, I'd be fine."

"Oh really?" His dad sounded skeptical.

"Sure," said Blaine, shrugging. "Number one, I'm not stupid. Number two, Sebastian looks out for me. He won't let me do anything dumb." His mother smiled, seemingly placated, and moved right on to explaining where the key would be hidden and where she'd leave money for him to get pizza and things like that. His father, though, watched his son with a slight frown on his face, thinking.

* * *

"So, what are we doing tonight?" Blaine jumped into Sebastian's car, tossing his bag over the seat into the back. Sebastian cut his eyes at him, amused and just a little pleased at how  _routine_ this seemed by now. He tried to keep those feelings out of his voice when he answered.

"I dunno. Your parents are out, right?" Blaine nodded.

"Well, we could do homework at your place instead of mine for once, and then order pizza to congratulate ourselves on being so responsible. Or…" Blaine raised an eyebrow at him.  _It's cute when he does that…what? No._

"Or?" Sebastian shook himself and grinned evilly, waggling his eyebrows at Blaine like a cartoony villain.

"Or…we could throw the routine out the window, and get coffee, see a movie, ignore our homework till tomorrow, and stay up all night doing absolutely nothing productive. We could be wild men."

Blaine laughed at him, and Sebastian tried not to think about how his eyes crinkled at the corners and his curls bounced a little when he laughed.

"Sounds like a plan, wild man," the younger boy choked out before he dissolved into laughter again at the ridiculous misnomer.


	4. Awkward

They stayed up all night and well into the morning, chattering and consuming massive amounts of caffeine and sugar, watching movies and generally following the plan of utter non-productivity. The sun was coming up before they finally started to wind down, but by about 10 a.m. the sugar rush had worn off and they'd come down from the caffeine high. Suddenly exhausted, they fell asleep in the middle of  _Underworld: Evolution—_ Sebastian had an unfortunate obsession with bad vampire movies—side by side on the couch. Somewhere around lunchtime Blaine's head slumped over to fall onto Sebastian's shoulder, prompting Sebastian to turn in his sleep and pull Blaine into his arms. A couple of hours later, the two boys had stretched out in their sleep, Sebastian's arms slung casually around Blaine's shoulders and Blaine's head nestled into Sebastian's chest, one hand holding a fistful of his shirt and the other dangling over the couch, fingers brushing the floor.

When Blaine's parents walked in the door later that afternoon, they were still laying just like that.

"Oh, Tom, isn't that the sweetest thing?" Blaine's mother kept her voice low, looking fondly down at the two sleeping teenagers as she hung up her coat and pushed her weekend bag against the wall to deal with later. Back still to her husband, she didn't see the furrow of his brows or the purse of his lips as she leaned over to grab the duvet off the back of the couch and spread it over them both. Blaine mumbled in his sleep and lifted his dangling hand, flailing a bit and barely missing hitting Sebastian in the face. Fortunately, the hand just settled over the older boy's shoulder, arm curling to the shape of the body beneath it, fingers brushing against his hair. Elena Anderson suppressed a little squeal of delight.

"That is just so precious."

"I don't know, Lena," said Tom as diplomatically as possible, coming up behind her and stopping to stare down at his son. She gave him a sideways look that prompted him to continue, a bit hastily. "Isn't it a little…intimate? It's one thing when they're toddlers, but aren't they a little old to be…cuddling up like that?"

Elena rolled her eyes. "Seriously? I think it's cute. And anyway, it's not as if you haven't seen it before. Your brother—"

"That's different," Tom interjected, his tone decidedly uncomfortable. "John is…but Blaine's not…I mean—" Elena smacked his shoulder affectionately and began to tug him away from the couch, herding him toward the stairs.

"Don't burn a fuse out, dear. Blaine's never said anything to  _me_ to indicate he might be…otherwise inclined…but haven't you noticed? He's never brought a girl home once, and he's almost fifteen."

Tom Anderson extracted himself from his wife's grasp and began unpacking his suitcase, mumbling something that sounded like "late bloomer." Elena placed her well-manicured hands on her elegant hips.

"Thompson Heyward Anderson, are you one of those homophobic fathers?" Her tone was light and teasing, but there was something in her eyes like real worry, and Tom stopped what he was doing to smile tightly at his wife.

"Of course I'm not. I have no problem with gay people. You know as well as I do, about John. But that doesn't mean it would be an easy thing to deal with. It's different when it's your son."

"Yes," she answered, and the teasing tone was replaced by severity, "it  _is_ different. Because when it's your son, you love him unconditionally for exactly who he is, am I right?"

"Lena, that's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I certainly hope not," she said, letting the subject drop. She went downstairs to make a cup of coffee, leaving Tom to his unpacking and his confused, troubled thoughts.

* * *

When Sebastian finally woke up, it was a gradual thing. First, he became aware of how warm and comfortable he was. Second, he was confused because he knew he'd fallen asleep on a couch, and he didn't think couches were generally this accommodating. Third, he became suddenly, completely awake when he realized his arms were wrapped around someone who was sleeping on top of him.

Someone small, and very warm, with dark, curly hair that was tickling his chin a little.

 _Okay,_ he thought,  _just breathe. This isn't so bad. We both just fell asleep, and we must have fallen over sideways. It's not a big deal. It doesn't mean anything. Most importantly, there are no witnesses, so all I have to do is—_

His frantic attempts at mentally calming himself down were short-circuited by the arrival of a petite woman with a cheerful, heart-shaped face and inky curls that could only be Blaine's mother. She plopped gracelessly into the recliner opposite the couch, taking a sip from the mug she was holding and sighing contentedly. Then she noticed his panicked stare watching her, and smiled.

"Oh, good, you're awake. The two of you looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you, but we were beginning to think the cops would show up any minute now, demanding that we release you to your parents. I'm sure they must be worried, but I didn't have a number to reach them."

"Er…right. Um…I'm Sebastian—"

"Oh, I know, dear. Blaine talks about you all the time. I understand the two of you are quite good friends?"

Sebastian nodded, acutely aware of exactly how  _good_ of friends they looked at the moment. Blaine's mother must have noticed his reddening face or his uncomfortable expression, because she smiled comfortingly, even indulgently, and when she spoke her voice was gently amused.

"Someone probably should have warned you, Blaine's quite the cuddler. He hasn't been able to share a bed with anyone since he was nine or ten; he just has this odd habit of wrapping himself around whatever's within reach. Perfectly fine if it's a pillow, but it embarrassed him when he'd wake up snuggled up to one of his cousins come to visit or a friend he'd invited over. My mother-in-law says it's because I was too affectionate toward him when he was a baby." The sardonic eyebrow and half-quirked smile she sent him told Sebastian exactly how much she thought of  _that_ theory. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Nah, I'm betting he was born that way," he said before he really thought about it. "He's just a really warm, impulsive person all around. It fits." He would have shrugged, but he didn't want to disturb the boy sleeping in his arms.  _Whose_ mother  _I'm having a conversation with. This is really weird._ He felt his face reddening again.

"You know, I think you're right," she said. "Warm and impulsive: two words that describe my Blainey to a tee. Oh goodness," she interrupted herself abruptly, coughing a little as gulped her coffee too quickly, "Don't tell him I slipped up and called him that in front of you. He positively  _hates_ those kinds of little pet names." Sebastian grinned in spite of his discomfort. It was hard to stay uncomfortable with this woman. His smile faltered as Blaine shifted in his arms a bit, head nuzzling his shoulder. Much as he didn't want to call attention to what Blaine's mother seemed perfectly oblivious to, he felt the need to clear the air.

"Um, Mrs. Anderson—"

"Oh, call me Elena, dear. Everyone does."

"Okay, Elena. Does this not…bother you? I mean, coming home to Blaine all curled up on the couch with another guy?"

"Why on earth would that bother me?" She said it as if she really had no idea, but he saw understanding in her eyes. She continued, her voice gentle again. "I'd like to think I'm not your average small-town Ohio parent," she said. "Like I told you, Blaine is a cuddler. So if I come home to find my son curled up on the couch with another boy, it could mean he fell asleep watching movies with a friend. Or—" she paused and tilted her head, considering him. "It could mean he fell asleep watching movies with a boyfriend." Sebastian's eyebrows shot up at her casual tone, but she continued as if she hadn't noticed. "Either way, it's adorable. If I had my camera, I would embarrass the dickens out of the both of you for years hereafter, I promise." Her gentle grin turned a little bit wicked at the corners, causing Sebastian to chuckle softly.

Blaine stirred in his arms, groaned, and then blinked his eyes a few times.

"Mom?" he said blearily. "Why are you sideways?" This caused both Sebastian and his mother to laugh, the former sound vibrating against Blaine's ear and causing him to sit bolt upright, accidentally knocking against Sebastian's chin and poking him in the ribs with his elbow as he did so.

"Ow!" said Sebastian just as Blaine exclaimed, "What the—" and flailed, nearly falling off the couch before his friend managed to catch him with the arm not holding his side, pressing him safely into the couch cushions and then leaning far away from him, massaging his jaw and still holding his ribs with one hand as Elena Anderson tried to stifle her laughter from her seat in the recliner. Blaine was utterly confused.

"Gah, Blaine, I think you broke my jaw!" Sebastian glared at his friend, who sent him an apologetic look before turning to his mother with a sheepish look on his face.

"Er, Mom…this is Sebastian, my friend from school? We must've fallen asleep during that last movie," he offered by way of an explanation for why his parents had found him sleeping on the couch with another guy. To his surprise, his mother didn't seem upset in the least. She just smiled and cut her eyes at Sebastian, an amused look passing between them before the teenager returned to grimacing and massaging his jaw.

"Oh, I know, dear," she said. "We've been getting acquainted while we waited for you to finally wake up." The laughter was still in her voice and in her eyes, and Blaine suppressed a sigh of profound relief. Apparently, she didn't suspect anything. He looked sideways at Sebastian, eyes guilty.

"I'm  _so_ sorry," he said. Sebastian just rolled his eyes and grinned.

"It's alright, I'm sure I'll just have a giant bruise from your elbow and a swollen jaw in the morning." He was teasing, but Blaine looked so shamefaced that he relented. "Seriously, I'm okay. Um, I'd better call my parents, though. You're right, they've got to be wondering where I am."

Blaine started to point out that he hadn't said anything about Sebastian's parents, when he realized Seb wasn't talking to him, but to his mother. As his friend got up and went to the kitchen to use their phone, Blaine looked at his mom questioningly.

"I've been getting to know Sebastian while we were waiting for you to join us in the land of the living," she said casually. "He seems like a nice boy."

"Uh, yeah. He is." Blaine shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

"You should have him over for dinner sometime," she said. "Introduce him to your father and I properly." Her tone was still casual, but there was something in it that made Blaine blush.

"Mo-oom," he grumbled. "He's just a friend from school. You don't have friends over to introduce them to your parents."

"Whatever you say," she responded easily, but with a twinkle still in her eyes. "Just as long as you know your friends are always welcome here. And we do like to know the people you're spending your time with."

"Sure, okay," he said, feeling supremely awkward. Stretching a little, he jumped up and headed toward the kitchen, leaving his mother with her coffee. He found Sebastian at the table, just hanging up his phone and looking strangely upset. He grimaced in sympathy.

"They're not mad at you, are they?" His friend smiled tightly.

"No, they're not mad. Not even worried, apparently."

"Really?" Blaine sounded surprised. "Why not?"

"Um. Well…" Sebastian shifted uncomfortably. "Amanda called them to say I was hanging out at her place."

"How'd she know to do that?" Now Sebastian looked  _really_ uncomfortable, and his face was turning a little red.

"She…well, I told her I was hanging out with you today and last night. And she…um,  _may_ have jumped to some conclusion or other and decided to run interference with my parents to help me out." He said the last part very fast, and with a very red face, while looking anywhere but at Blaine's face. Blaine was grateful for this, as he could feel his own cheeks getting pretty red now, too.

"She...conclusions?" He said weakly. Sebastian nodded, letting out a chuckle that sounded more like an exasperated sigh. Blaine facepalmed.

"Please tell me she didn't share these conclusions with anyone else."

"Well…just…Nathan? And maybe…"

Blaine groaned loudly and threw himself into a chair, hiding his face in both his hands.

"I'm going to  _kill_ her," he exclaimed, his voice muffled. Sebastian just stood there helplessly, not knowing how to make the situation less embarrassing, and a little illogically bothered that Blaine apparently found it so embarrassing in the first place. When Blaine looked up, though, his face was smooth.

"I'll set them straight, don't worry. None of them will say a word about this to you or anyone else."

"Thanks, Seb," Blaine said gratefully. Then something seemed to occur to him. "It's not that that would be…I mean…you're amazing, Seb, but I'm not really ready to tell people, and anyway we're not…you don't…" Sebastian smiled as well as he was able under the circumstances, and touched Blaine's shoulder comfortingly.

"Hey," he said, "it's okay. We're just friends. You're new to all this. Don't let Amanda and her insane fangirling freak you out, okay?" Blaine nodded. Sebastian withdrew his hand.

"Anyway, I'd better go. I told my parents I'd be home soon. See you at school?"

"Yeah," Blaine said, watching his friend's retreating back with a slight frown on his face. "See you…"


	5. Moments

"Okay guys, seriously…now I  _really_ have to get home. My parents are gonna send a search party soon," Blaine said as sternly as possible. He thought he managed pretty well, considering how stupid he felt mentioning it at all. He hated having a curfew; quite apart from it cutting the good times short on a regular basis, he just hated anything reminding his friends of how much younger he was. Especially Sebastian. Amanda, Nathan and the rest already treated him like a kid brother, and he didn't particularly want Sebastian to start doing the same, although he couldn't think of a particular reason why not.

He pushed himself back from the table and stood up, sighing and stretching, hearing his back pop from leaning against a hard diner booth for so long. Amanda sagged against her seat in disappointment but dug out her wallet and went to pay, and Nathan started gathering up his books and stuffing them in his backpack as Blaine walked across the room to throw away his empty coffee cup. Sebastian watched him, chin in hand, until he seemed to suddenly realize he was, in effect,  _staring at Blaine's ass_. He jumped up, nearly overturning his own barely-touched coffee cup in the process. Amanda and Nathan exchanged an amused glance as their normally put-together friend stumbled after Blaine.

"C'mon, we'll get the car, and you can grab shotgun so we won't have to listen to Amanda's obnoxious violin music all the way home."

She casually gave Sebastian's back the finger as she collected her change. Nathan just shook his head at the ridiculous antics of his friends.

* * *

When they dropped Blaine off at home, Sebastian walked him to his front door. As soon as he was back in the car, his friends pounced before he could even get the car door shut.

"So, Blaine's jeans fit nicely tonight, huh?" Nathan said offhandedly. Sebastian gaped at him in the rearview, confused and a little shocked.

"Uh…"

"Yes, and how  _is_ the cradle-robbing business these days?" Amanda interjected with a knowing smirk. Catching on, he scowled at both of them and then turned his attention back to the road.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please," said Amanda. "Don't insult our intelligence."

"Yeah, don't even bother denying it," added Nathan. "Not only have I known you for a nearly insufferable amount of time, I was your first crush—"

"Can't imagine what I must have been thinking," muttered Sebastian.

"Which  _means,_ " Nathan continued loudly, ignoring Sebastian's comment. "I recognize the signs."

Sebastian was silent.

"So…'fess up already, doll!" Amanda wasn't giving up. "How long have you been a smitten kitten for our little Blainers?"

"Ugh, seriously? He hates pet names," said Sebastian. "And can we just…not talk about this? I don't have a crush on Blaine." Amanda pouted at him in the rearview mirror.

"But Sebastiannnnn, keeping the lines of communication open is important to maintaining any loving, committed relationship!"

"I missed the part where we were loving," he replied.

"And I think you're the only one who's ever come close to being committed," added Nathan.

"Not  _helping,_ Nate," Amanda growled, glaring at him. He shrugged and turned his attention to Sebastian again, leaning forward in the seat a bit.

"Seriously Seb, it's obvious. Your IQ drops like 50 points whenever he walks into a room. You stare at him. Constantly."

"I've even seen you drool," Amanda put in.  _That_ got his attention.

"I don't drool!" He snapped. He sighed in defeat, rubbing one long-fingered hand down his face in a gesture his friends recognized as "gathering all of my patience."

"Fine," he said finally. "I'm crazy about him. What the hell? One minute he's just my friend, and then between spending so much time with him-I mean, anybody who spent that much time with him would like him right? And  _you_ " he glared pointedly at Amanda in the rearview mirror, "always making your suggestive jokes about the two of us, so thanks a lot for that. How could I help it? Not that it matters, since he  _isn't gay._ "

"Riiiiiiight," said Amanda, trying not to laugh at the way Sebastian butchered syntax when he was frustrated. "And I suppose next you'll tell us you guys _don't_ spend hours sharing your tales from the closet over homework every night?" He stared at her, a little freaked out.

"How—"

"You have the whole 'big gay mentor' thing going on, dude. It's obvious."

"The only thing that's  _not_ obvious," Nathan put in, "is why you won't ask him out. He would definitely say yes."

"What?"  _Does Blaine like me? Did he tell Nathan he liked me? He wouldn't do that though, right? He'd have to come out to him first._ Sebastian noticed that both his friends were leaning forward in their seats, waiting with patient amusement for him to snap out of his internal rant. He blinked and then tried to school his expression into something less transparent. "I mean…no. Guys, Blaine doesn't need some senior guy trying to put the moves on him, okay?"

"Why?" Amanda challenged. "Because what he really needs is a friend and confidant, a mentor who knows the ropes and will talk him through the tough times, and you're not sure you can handle the pressure of being both?"

"No, dammit!" A little desperate not to accidentally out his friend, Sebastian finally reached the end of his patience. "Because Blaine. Isn't.  _Fucking_. Gay."

Shocked silence reigned supreme in the car.

Finally, after several uncomfortable minutes, Amanda spoke up again, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "Wow…you must have it bad, Seb."

"What makes you think that?" He asked wearily, already regretting his outburst.

"Well, I haven't heard you say 'fuck' in years, for one," said Nathan.

"And I've never known you to lie for  _anyone,"_ added Amanda. The three friends were silent for several moments more. Then—

"We won't say anything, you know," Nathan said.

"Yeah, we'll let Blaine tell us when he's ready," said Amanda.

Sebastian smiled weakly, feeling a sudden surge of affection for his two best friends. It was moments like these he really felt it, how fortunate he was to have somehow stumbled across these two people who supported him and accepted him so unconditionally.

"Thanks guys," he said softly.

* * *

Blaine closed the front door as quietly as he could, wincing slightly at the loud 'click' as it slid into the frame. He tiptoed down the hall, freaking out at every tiny creak of the floorboards under his feet. He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the carpeted stairs.

He had one foot on the bottom stair when the living room lamp switched on, and his body had two adverse reactions at once: first, he nearly jumped out of his skin, clapping a hand over his mouth to keep from yelping like a kicked dog. Second, he froze, heart in his throat, afraid to turn around and face the music.

"A bit late for a school night, isn't it son?" Blaine schooled his grimace at being caught into something he hoped would look apologetic, and turned to face his dad.

"Hey," he said sheepishly. "Uh…sorry. I was getting coffee with some friends, and we lost track of the time. I didn't want to wake anybody up…" he trailed off, uncomfortable with making excuses. His dad studied him a minute, as if trying to detect a lie. Blaine shifted uneasily under the scrutiny until his dad finally relaxed.

"It's fine this time," he said, "But next time at least call, okay?"

Surprised, Blaine just nodded. He wanted to retreat upstairs, but his dad seemed to have more to say.

"So…that Sebastian kid…"

Blaine felt his insides seize up in panic.  _Oh God,_ he thought,  _Oh_ God  _he's gonna ask me right here. I'm not ready for this!_ But his dad didn't continue; his words seemed to have stalled on 'kid.' His jaw worked for several moments before he finally spoke.

"He's really a good kid? Not gonna get you in any trouble, is he?"

Blaine nearly sagged against the banister in relief, but it was tinged with just the tiniest bit of disappointment as well. He'd thought this was the moment; he was finally going to get it all over with. But no.

"Sebastian's the best, dad," he said, his profound relief prompting him to more honesty than he would normally give his parents, at least about this topic. Tom Anderson winced a little at what he heard in the way his son said the other boy's name, but Blaine was avoiding his father's eyes and didn't see it.

"Well," he said, "just keep a level head, okay? I don't mind you hanging out with the older kids so much, just…don't let them talk you into anything. Remember—"

"Where I came from," Blaine finished his dad's sentence from memory. He smiled. "I know, Dad. I will."

"Good. Well, get to bed. Don't want to hear you moan and groan about getting up for school tomorrow."

Blaine nodded. "'Night, Dad."

"Good night, son," he said to his son's retreating back.

* * *

Of all his classes, Blaine thought he probably enjoyed art the most. It wasn't that he was particularly  _good_ at it, but he quickly found that nothing was more therapeutic than taking your frustrations out on a hunk of clay, or a blank sheet of paper. On the first day of class, the teacher had introduced himself—"Mr. Eldridge, but you can all call me Marvin if you'd like"—and proceeded to explain that the goal of the class was "to create art, not to complete assignments."

"Art," he'd told them, "Is not a lot of things. It isn't nice. It isn't neat. It isn't always complete and, most importantly, it isn't grade-able. Art is about humanity. It's what happens when you reach inside the soul and pull something right out, give it a tangible form. That is my goal for you this year…I want you to reach inside yourselves and find ways to express visually what you find there. The supplies in this room are all at your disposal, and you have my permission to bring anything from home to use as well…within reason. So, no napalm, for example."

"Well,  _now_ I feel limited," muttered one of the students. Everyone tittered, and Mr. Eldridge—Blaine could not even  _imagine_ calling one of his teachers by their first name—quirked an eyebrow and leveled a look at the errant student.

"Sharpen your wit in English class, Michael," was all he said, but that shut the kid up. "Now, begin."

Since then, Blaine had spent most of his time just drawing in a sketchpad he'd claimed from a stack of them in the supply closet. He quickly found that he didn't have any talent at all when it came to sketching; he could  _see_ exactly what he wanted in his head, but his fingers never seemed capable of guiding the pencil across the paper in a way that would make that vision real. Still, it was a nice break between Algebra II and World History, so he wasn't going to complain. After a week or so, he switched mediums at Mr. Eldridge's suggestion, spending a little time molding hunks of clay into recognizable shapes, mostly faces. He was better at that; even though the faces he created never had any kind of realistic features or proportions, they had real expressions, and he was even really proud of a few. Inexplicably, he still liked sketching better.

"Psst. Hey."

Blaine looked up from the drawing he was working on to meet a pair of pale green eyes peeking out from behind a fringe of  _very_ red hair. The girl the eyes belonged to smiled tentatively at him and adjusted her glasses.

"You're Ben, right?"

"Uh, Blaine," he corrected her, perplexed. She'd been sitting across from him since the first day of school, but she'd never spoken to him before or given any indication she knew he—or anyone else in the room—existed.

"Well, hi, Blaine," she said, quirking a half-smile. "I hate to be rude, but can you scoot over just a little? Your hair's casting a shadow."

He flushed to the roots of said hair, but complied with her request. It was obvious she wasn't trying to be a jerk, and when he snuck a peak at what she was working on, he could see why she'd asked. It looked like the view of a tree's branches from directly underneath. The drawing was all snarls and knobs, an almost indecipherable tangle. He examined his own faint silhouette where it lay on the table when he bent over again; his hair was really getting out of control. His mother had been chiding him to trim it for weeks. A vain attempt to flatten it out with one hand only made the curls stick up more. He sighed.

The girl looked up again and smirked, not unkindly, at his vain attempt to get his hair to behave.

"You know…" she paused, voice wavering. He got the distinct feeling she didn't talk to people much. He smiled at her to show he was listening, and she continued. "My older sister is studying cosmetology at the trade school; she'd cut it for free as long as you promise not to sue if she accidentally scalps you."

Blaine couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Nah, I'd rather be Curly than Moe, thanks." She grimaced at him then, and the shyness seemed to disappear immediately in favor of her indignation.

"Dude…the one with curly hair was Larry. Curly was bald." Blaine grimaced right back, apologetically.

"Yeah…I knew there was a reason I never liked those guys." He paused for a second, then went on, awkwardly. "Uh, this kind of makes me seem like a jerk, since we've been sharing a table in here for a month or something, but I have  _no_ idea what your name is."

She gave him the little half-smirk again and re-adjusted her glasses from where they'd attempted to slip down her nose once more.

"I'm Andie Milliken. Don't feel too bad. It's not like I knew your name, either."

"Meh, you had the first letter down, and I'm pretty sure 'Ben' is in the same family, at least phonetically," he said, shrugging. She gave him a look that clearly said, 'wow, you're a nerd,' but she was still smiling. He returned the smile and then went back to his work. She settled to adding texture lines to her tree branches, working in comfortable silence for several minutes, before she looked over at him again.

"So…what're you working on?" He slid the paper over so she could see it. She looked at it for a second, eyes narrowing as she scrutinized it, before sliding it back across.

"Pretty eyes. Very compassionate, kind of…wise. Wow, I just turned into Dr. Seuss." Blaine laughed at that. "Do they belong to someone specific?" She asked offhandedly. Blaine hunched his shoulders as his face twisted into an unreadable expression.

"Um…not really. Just eyes," he said, although Sebastian's face flashed through his mind. She took in his slight blush and rolled her eyes, but didn't press the matter.

* * *

"Hey, Blaine!" He turned to see Andie practically bouncing down the hall towards him, digging through her backpack as she went and grinning from ear to ear when she saw she'd gotten his attention. He couldn't help but grin back. Andie's smile—her  _real_ smile, not just the little secretive grin she used to mock people—was contagious. Her mouth—just a little too wide to be in proportion with the rest of her face—seemed to take over. It wrinkled her little ski-slope of a nose and caused her cheeks to practically eat her eyes. He'd gotten used to seeing it for the past couple of weeks; ever since that first, stilted conversation in art class, she'd made herself a sort of sarcastic, semi-quiet fixture in his life, apparently deciding they should be friends and opening up to him a little bit at a time. It was the weirdest friendship he'd ever had, but he didn't care; it was nice to have made a friend, for once, that wasn't handed to him by Sebastian. He had been beginning to wonder if he'd forgotten how to do that on his own.

He shut his locker and pulled the strap of his messenger bag more securely onto his shoulders, lingering so Andie could catch up with him.

"Hey," he said, an amused laugh threatening to break out as she nearly tripped over her dangling shoelaces as she came to a halt beside him, cursing fluently under her breath while continuing to dig through her bag.

"Where the hell  _is_ it? It was right here this morning.  _Fuck._ I swear to fucking—"

"Geeze, Milliken," he said teasingly. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"No," she said automatically, still digging as they headed towards the art room. "In my family we're all about hugs." He laughed.

"What're you looking for, anyway?"

"I grabbed this flyer from the bulletin board…it's for an art show in Westerville next weekend…it looked pretty cool, even if it  _is_ at some snooty private school. I thought we could go. But now I can't  _find_ the damn thing!" She practically wailed as she finally gave up digging and withdrew her arm from where Blaine was worried it might have been lost forever in the depths of her black hole of a backpack.

"You know, if you  _ever_ cleaned that thing out—"

" _Don't_  start with me, Anderson," she held up a hand and glared at him entirely without malice. "Just because you've bought into the world of day planners and pencil organizers, don't expect the rest of us to follow you into the middle-management hell of corporate America."

"Middle-management, really? I always saw myself as more of a loveable hobo…maybe sketching people for tips on a street corner. Anyway, I'm just trying to  _save_  you from yourself, Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout."

"Yeah, well, get off me and just let the poem follow through to completion. I haven't even been completely buried yet," she shot back without missing a beat, plopping down in her seat and promptly dumping the entire contents of her backpack on their table.

"Andie!" He exclaimed indignantly. "How the hell are we supposed to get any work done  _now?"_ She just shrugged.

"You're welcome to make origami or trash sculpture out of anything you find," she said carelessly as she sifted through the massive mound of papers. Mr. Eldridge looked up from his own easel at the front of the room, but didn't say anything.

"Aha!" Andie exclaimed, pulling a rumpled sheet of red paper from the mess on the table. "There you are, you little fucker." At  _that_ Mr. Eldridge cleared his throat rather pointedly, and Andie shot him a sheepish grin before turning back to Blaine.

"Whattaya think?" She asked. He read over it.

"Dalton Academy? That sounds…"  _Familiar. Huh…oh!_ "Hey, I actually know someone who goes there," he said.

"Who?"

"Friend from middle school, Morgan. Haven't talked to him in awhile, though. Our little group kind of got split up when we started high school. I was the only one who went here." Andie wrinkled her nose sympathetically.

"Yeah, mine too. My group, I mean. I found my new people pretty quick, though. Justin and Cory…they're both different kinds of dysfunctional crazy, but they're all right. Maybe I'll add you to the roster, if you prove yourself sufficiently cracked." Blaine grinned sweetly at her as he folded an old math test into a paper crane.

"Are you kidding?" He said. "I'm the sanest, most normal guy I know."

"Uh, considering the company you keep…not sayin' much," she said. The words were teasing, but Blaine bristled, remembering that conversation with Sebastian at lunch shortly after they'd first met.

"What's  _that_ supposed to mean?" He said, his voice suddenly sharp. Andie just looked at him like he was crazy, then gestured between the two of them.

"Dude…we're planning to go to an  _art show_ on the weekend. That's the high school definition of socially pathetic. I mean, me more than you, since you've inexplicably infiltrated the fabulous world of seniors. How  _did_ you manage that? No offense, I could be totally wrong, but you don't exactly strike me as the guy that's smooth enough to pull that off."

 _Geeze, what_ is  _it with people and groups in high school?_ Blaine thought, though he relaxed a bit at her words.  _I don't remember it being this complicated before. I hung out with the people I liked being around, end of story._ He didn't say that, though. Slowly but surely, he was learning not to blurt out  _every_ little thing that popped into his head.

"Um, much as I'd love to say, 'oh yeah, I'm  _totally_ a secret stud, it was an accident. Sebastian Grey—you know him?—" Andie shook her head. "Oh, well, he found me drowning in a sea of wrong locker combinations one day and rescued me. Dragged me up onto the beach, sang to me and everything."

Andie raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? So should we expect him to come stumbling in here one day looking for you, wearing nothing but an old sail wrapped around his waist? 'Cause that'd be kind of hot." Blaine turned red and suddenly became very interested in his paper crane. Andie laughed at him and started scooping the wad of papers back into her bag.

"Blaine, you are seriously weird sometimes. I don't know if you're spastic or uptight, or somehow both. Chill man, I was only kidding."

Blaine tried to relax. He didn't know either. He was used to being open, easygoing, even a little bit impulsive…self-destructively so. Ever since starting high school, though, he'd felt an increase in pressure. Pressure to do  _what_ exactly, he wasn't sure, and he didn't even know where it came from; he just knew that lately he thought more and more about the fact that he was gay, and that practically no one in his life knew that about him. It felt like hiding, and he didn't like it. But every time he was presented with even the tiniest  _suggestion_ about his sexuality, he seemed to freeze up and go into panic mode.

"Dude, seriously, chill out," Andie broke his random foray into angst. "If Prince Charming does come stumbling in, I promise I won't steal him away, my red hair and killer singing ability notwithstanding." Blaine blinked at her once, twice…and then snorted a laugh in spite of himself.

"Wow, Andie. Way to completely screw the metaphor. Hey, hand me the second page of your test, I wanna make a friend for my paper crane."

It was the first moment he could have told her, but he didn't. He still hadn't told anyone other than Seb; even if Amanda and Nathan suspected— _as they obviously do,_ he thought, ears burning at the memory of the  _numerous_ jokes and inuendos at his and Sebastians' expense—he'd never confirmed it, and he knew Sebastian wouldn't have either.  _If Andie can just joke about it like that, she probably would be cool about it, though. Maybe I could tell her?_

He'd only known Andie for about a week, and he wasn't sure he wanted to face the possibility of sitting across from her in awkward silence for months on end because he'd misread her. So he stayed quiet.

* * *

"So what're we doing this Friday?" Sebastian asked as he sat down across from Blaine later that day. Blaine looked up from his sketchpad—where he was currently working on adding Mr. Eldridge's face to a picture of his hamburger—and grinned apologetically.

"Actually, I got invited to go do something with Andie and her friends this Friday. It's an art show at Dalton Academy…where my friend Morgan goes? Anyway it should be pretty cool." He grimaced apologetically at the look on Sebastian's face. "Hey, of course you're invited too, I don't think Andie would mind. She's a little in awe of my ability to have friends who are seniors," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure she'd love to meet some of these awe-inspiring people."

Sebastian forced himself to grin back. There was no reason for him to be upset, but he felt an irrational annoyance at the idea of Blaine blowing off their Friday night hangout.  _Or maybe it's because he so obviously doesn't find you awe-inspiring? Egotistical much, Sebastian?_ He mocked himself silently.  _You need to get this thing under control. Blaine's obviously not interested in you that way. Even if he_ was,  _weren't you telling Amanda and Nathan just the other night how Blaine doesn't need you blurring the lines and making his life more complicated right now? Way to stick to your guns, he mentions having other friends and you go off the deep end with jealousy, God, Nathan was right, your IQ_ does  _drop 50 points every time he—_

"Seb?" Blaine's voice snapped him out of his increasingly incoherent mental scolding. He was looking at Sebastian with a little furrow of concern between his brows. "You alright?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," Sebastian lied quickly. "Just…thinking."  _Wow. Did your articulate and your nonchalant run away together, Sebastian, 'cause they've obviously gone_ somewhere  _else. You're thinking. Well, obviously. Brilliant…and now he's staring at you like you're losing it again._

He smiled weakly at Blaine. "Sorry. Didn't get a lot of sleep, my mind's just all over the place. So…this art show sounds fun, I'm sure you'll have a good time. I think I'll sit this one out, though."

"You sure?" Blaine said. Sebastian just nodded, half afraid if he opened his mouth more stupid would come pouring out. Blaine shrugged and turned his attention to his sandwich. "Have it your way, but you don't know what you're missing." He grinned mischievously at Sebastian's questioning look. "Dalton's an  _all boy's_ school, Seb."

 _Great. Just what I need…Blaine in an all-boy's school._ He raised an eyebrow and quirked a careful half-smiled at him.

"Oh, so it's a shopping excursion, then?" Blaine choked on his milk.

"What? N-no!" He blurted, causing two girls at the other end of their table to look over at them. He grinned sheepishly at them and then went on in a much lower voice. "I mean…I don't really think I'm ready for that kind of thing yet. It'd be kinda hard to get a…a…"

"Boyfriend?" Sebastian supplied, both eyebrows now threatening to disappear into his hairline and a smile fighting to spread across his face as he watched Blaine struggle with words.  _He really is too adorable when he's all flustered._ That opinion was only confirmed when Blaine went red-faced at the word 'boyfriend.'

"Uh…yeah. One of those," he said, suddenly looking down at his hands. "I mean…who'd wanna date somebody and keep it a big secret? I wouldn't be much of a…I wouldn't be a very good b-boyfriend seeing as I can barely even  _talk_ about it even to someone I  _know_ won't judge me. I couldn't introduce him to my parents, or go on dates with him, or even hold his hand in public." His voice got smaller and quieter with every word. He knew he was rambling, but he couldn't seem to stop. "Whether he was out or not, dating me would put him in the closet…indefinitely. Nobody should have to do that, and who would even want to?"

 _I wouldn't mind,_ Sebastian thought ruefully. He knew Blaine was right; it would be unhealthy and doomed from the start. That didn't stop him from _wanting_ it, though, a little more with every passing moment he spent in Blaine's presence. He smiled gently at the boy in question and reached across the table to squeeze his hand, taking special care not to let the touch linger.

"Hey…I was only kidding," he said softly, just loud enough for Blaine to hear. "Anyway, there's no rush. You'll come out when you're ready, and when you do there'll be guys knocking at your door around the clock." Blaine looked at him, head still tilted down and big hazel-brown eyes peeking at him from behind his messy, ridiculously curly hair.

"Yeah, right," he said, but he was grinning. Sebastian couldn't help but smile back, shaking his head a little at how clueless Blaine could be when it came to…well, everything, but particularly himself.

"Of course I am," he said slyly, earning him a French fry chucked in his direction.


End file.
